Near Miss
by Macx
Summary: Logan comes to Westchester with a request. He needs Charles' help with another Cursed. But Charles has really no idea what he's getting into as he follows Logan to where the young man is hiding... Shifterverse
1. Chapter 1

Logan had contacted him about a week ago, asking if Charles could make some time to come up North. It had been an odd request by the other mutant and Charles had been a bit bemused by it. Normally Logan dropped by Westchester or the manor, lingered a few days, did what he had come to do, and disappeared again.

After the attack on Muir Island his visits had been a lot more frequent. He had spent a lot of time with Erik, of all people, and Charles had expected snarling and growling and posturing, but that had been over within the first hour of the first visit. After that the two men had, reluctantly and still with a lot of caution, started to accept each other's presence. Well, it had been mainly Erik who had needed to get accustomed to the powerful mutant, not the other way around.

Not that Logan had had any intentions, ever, to make a move on Charles. Erik had simply been falling back on his Shifter instincts to protect his partner, and Charles had watched it with the occasional eye-roll.

Now the two men were almost amicable.

In a way that had been worrying, too.

Charles had picked a few stray things from his lover and partner, but he had never actively listened in. Apparently Logan's visits had been about finding the ones responsible for the attack on Moira and also Charles, who had been the one with the worst injuries. Three months had passed since then and the scars were all that reminded him of that time. Erik still had that intense, sometimes cold, sometimes heated, look in his eyes when he saw them.

Well, whatever he and Logan were doing hunting those men, Charles had promised himself not to worry. Erik wouldn't risk his life like that; he knew what was at stake. If the Shark died, Charles would be cast adrift; the anchor line would be destroyed. Charles had no idea how he would be able to cope with this.

Now Logan was back at the manor and he had asked to talk to Charles alone. With Erik letting his inner shark out and taking a long swim, it was no problem. Logan still looked almost apprehensive when he stepped into the telepath's office, something Charles would never have thought the other man would be.

"Hello, Logan," he greeted the mutant. "What do I owe this visit to?"

Logan flexed his fingers as if he was ready to deploy his claws. "You know I've been looking into the attack on Muir Island."

Charles nodded.

"Ran into trouble."

He frowned. He couldn't read the other man's mind, but he was pretty good at picking up a few things. Logan was very worried.

"Got out of the trouble okay and they paid for it, but a friend of mine was injured."

Charles sat up sharply. "How badly?"

"Was knocked around a bit and he dislocated a shoulder. Got that fixed. But he's vulnerable and he needs a place to lay low. I wanted to ask a favor, professor."

"Of course he can stay here," Charles immediately offered.

Logan nodded briskly. "Thanks."

"Where is he?"

"With a friend."

And the way Logan tried not to name a location made it clear that the friend was not a people person, nor was he going to disclose the address.

"So you want me to meet your injured friend before he comes here?"

Logan nodded.

"Why?"

"He's Cursed."

Well, duh, Charles thought in a moment of uncharacteristic sarcasm floating through his mind.

"Can't tell you more now."

"Unless I come along?"

Logan nodded.

Charles rubbed his fingertips over his forehead. "Alright. I'm coming."

The other mutant grinned, showing even, white teeth that were only missing the feral fangs to make it a truly frightening look.

"I take it you have a ride?" Charles asked, resigned.

"You betcha."

Erik wouldn't be back for maybe a week. He had decided to head for a longer swim and Charles couldn't fault him for it. Sometimes he wanted to just scamper off as well and let the manor handle itself. When had he become headmaster of a school-like institution, manager of Curses and something of a go-to person for all of Westchester?

He had no idea.

x x x x x

Northbound Bridge was an unremarkable place. As old as Haven and Westchester, but a lot more northerly, with more snow days than any place else, and populated mostly by those working in the forest in the brief summer periods. In winter the ice fishers came, together with some hunters. But it was a mostly deserted place then. To the south of Northbound Bridge was the much bigger town of Ashhill. Charles watched the bustled in town as they passed through almost as if it was another life.

Once it had been another life. He had been to good schools, he had earned degrees, he had gone into research, and he had chosen the Curses as his field of study. Now everything had changed and he was bonded to a powerful Omega Cursed, the man he loved dearly and couldn't imagine being without. He had opened the Xavier manor to other Cursed, those seeking help, and Westchester had been revived.

Ashhill looked like another world. He would probably get chills in other, much bigger towns or even cities. Not just because he was a telepath and it was an immense feat to just shield against so many minds. No, he had grown accustomed to small town life. He loved Westchester and he couldn't think of being anywhere else.

Logan parked the banged-up pick-up he called his own around the back of a formerly splendid Victorian clapboard. Today it was a forgotten, decrepit house that badly needed a paint-job, a new roof, and where the garden was only a memory hidden within the overgrown disaster that made up the backyard.

With Logan in the lead they made their way through the jungle of plants, then Logan rapped his knuckles sharply against the weathered door. There was a moment of silence, then the door opened. Charles, without even actively trying to read the other mind, was hit with the sharp intensity and the distrust like a sledge hammer. He felt himself rock a little and had to steady his mind before looking into the steely eyes of their host.

This was a man not to be underestimated.

Logan just nodded at him and Charles followed quickly as the other walked inside. He knew he could defend himself, he knew he wasn't helpless and could fell an opponent with a thought, but their silent host creeped him out.

But he wasn't here for a pleasant afternoon tea. Logan had hardly lost a word about who Charles was about to meet, despite the Shifter's gentle prodding. All he knew was that the man was a friend of Logan's and that he needed help.

The inside of the old house didn't look all that much better than the outside, though it was clean. The walls were bare. The wallpaper had been wonderfully detailed once, but now it was faded and peeling at the corners. There were no pictures, the bulbs hung nakedly, and the musty smell told the rest of the story. Charles wasn't surprised to see an ancient kitchen from the turn of the century that hadn't been updated at all when they passed by that door. There was even an old pump!

Logan opened the basement door and Charles only raised his brows in query, but the other man didn't say anything, just gestured at him to follow. The surprise came when they arrived at the end of the stone steps. The basement was a paradise compared to upstairs! Florescent lights, cool, clean, the walls covered in white tiles, and several doors leading into what seemed to be inhabited rooms.

Whoever lived here, they lived underground!

Charles was aghast and fascinated in one.

"Not every town welcomes a Cursed," Logan grunted.

Dear god, Charles thought. This was a refuge. With a guardian upstairs and who knew how many defenses.

Suddenly he appreciated the Xavier manor and the welcoming atmosphere.

At least it was clean and warm, though looked too cool to be homey. Logan entered a door, behind which was another short corridor, then they were in what looked like a small apartment. Charles must have looked surprised because Logan gave him a brief grin.

Scott Summers was definitely not what Charles had expected him to be. Since it was so hard to read Logan, getting an impression of the man who meant apparently more to Logan than a mere acquaintance would, had been impossible. At least without launching a full-out spy attack that would have Logan at his throat in a matter of seconds.

Scott was tall, with a lean built not unlike Erik's, a shock of dark hair and currently rather pale features. Charles guessed his age around mid to late twenties. What stood out with him were the dark red glasses he was wearing. That and the fact that he was barely able to move and his face was twisted into a grimace of pain.

Charles didn't have to read Scott's mind to pick up the pain and he didn't have to go deep to recognize the wariness and apprehension.

"Hello Scott," he greeted the other man. "My names is Charles Xavier."

"I know. Logan told me. He talked about you."

The voice was pleasant, though laced with the pain he felt, and Scott tried to sound at least a little civil and warm. He was failing, though. The apprehension was there, the tension visible in every line of his body, and there was a wariness the Cursed developed in their lives that spoke of too much abuse of trust.

Charles smiled warmly. "Did he now?"

Logan scowled, but he didn't comment. He had position himself close to Scott, not hovering per se but nearly.

Summers settled himself carefully against the wall, breathing shallowly. One arm was wrapped around his ribs and they were most likely either very bruised or even broken. There was a huge bruise on his left temple.

"Did you already see a doctor?"

"Yeah, we did," Logan growled. "Got the ribs fixed. Concussion, too."

Charles nodded. He was curious about Scott. His last name was the same as Alex's and he did share a resemblance with the other Cursed. Brothers? Alex had never mentioned his family and it was something of a sore spot for the younger man. Charles had never pried. Or cousins?  
>He was even more curious about the fact that he was wearing those specialized glasses. His eyes were near-invisible behind the tinted shades and when Scott moved his head Charles discovered that they extended around, making it impossible for anyone to catch a look.<p>

"What happened, Scott?" Charles asked bluntly.

Logan bristled, ready to snap something, but the way the younger mutant looked at him, it was clear Logan had no say in whether Scott answered or not.

Answer he did.

"We ran into a bunch of rather… unsavory characters," Scott smiled thinly, "and I let my guard down briefly."

"You were knocked around by that red-head."

Charles' brows climbed a little.

Scott sighed. "She's a Cursed, professor. Someone who can move objects by mind. I've known her for a long time and she fell off the radar a few years ago. Her name is Jean. She was always kind of a mindreader and she moved stuff with her mind."

Charles knew he was gaping. A Cursed with two talents?

"She always said she heard voices and they were telling her bad things," Scott went on, looking and sounding pained and unhappy. "I tried to help her. I mean, we partially grew up together. And then she ran with the wrong crowd, got involved with the wrong people, and now…" He sighed, wincing a little. "We met again and she ran me over before I could do anything."

"She's got ties to Sinister," Logan said coldly. "And he's responsible for the attack on Muir Island and you. Get her to talk, she might lead us to him. Gotta say she got guts and stamina."

Charles gave him a sharp look and he grinned humorlessly.

"Don't worry, Chuck. She's alive and she got away. But a guy I know is tagging her."

"You didn't have to go looking for the attackers, Logan," the Shifter replied, voice more steady than he felt.

Why had the other mutant done it? He understood Erik's need for revenge, but the Shark, who had nearly lost his mate, had been a lot more restrained than this man had been. Logan had no investment in Westchester or the Xavier manor, let alone the people there, Charles was an acquaintance, nothing more, nothing less.

"Sinister's bad news. Like Shaw was. Like so many who think they can control us Cursed."

"He didn't attack you."

Logan's eyes narrowed. "Like Stryker never attacked you and you still helped me."

Charles blinked, confused. "I didn't…"

"You gave me a place to stay."

What? The telepath wished he could just glean the whole meaning of the words from Logan's mind, but it was impossible.

"Logan, everyone is welcome…"

"Just accept it, Prof," the alpha growled.

"You're doing great things for the Cursed," Scott spoke up calmly. "Losing that would mean Sinister and those like him have won again. It's an endless fight, but battles can be won. Protecting you, striking back as payback, is all we others can do."

Others?

Charles felt his world sway a little. Others? What others? And what payback?

"Westchester's not some unknown little backwater smudge on the map," Logan said. "You were noticed. They won't dare to come that close, but they will strike at whatever threatens them outside your safe haven."

"I never…"

"Accept it. You've started something big. And out here, away from that, there are Cursed who believe it's worth fighting for."

Charles ran shaky fingers through his unruly hair. "Oh dear…"

"Ask anyone in Westchester," Logan added. "You got their loyalty."

"But you don't know me," Charles argued, looking at Scott.

"Logan trusts you. That was enough." 


	2. Chapter 2

Oh dear. Charles tried to keep his whirling thoughts under control, but it was hard. Things had developed in leaps at home and he had never even thought about what might be going on outside his little world. Now a whole new door had been opened and he felt ill-equipped to handle it.

For the first time he wished Erik was here. His partner was a lot better at this than him. Charles was still very much a scientist and scholar, not a politician or soldier, and this information, the news… they were mind-blowing.

But he had come here for Scott. The young man needed his help – because he had fought for him.

"Needs time to sink in, hm, bub?"

Logan sounded way too cheerful and Charles gave him an annoyed look. That resulted in an even bigger grin. Resolutely he turned to Scott and gave him a small smile.

"Tell me about yourself, Scott. What is your gift?"

There was a breathy laugh and another wince as it jostled the injured ribs. "Gift? Logan said you would call it something other than a Curse. I wouldn't say it's a gift. I can shoot energy beams from my eyes."

Charles took that information with a calm expression. "Since puberty?"

"Pretty much. At first only when I got really angry. Then I learned how I could control it."

"How did your parents react?"

The mouth thinned. "They died in a car accident when I was little. My foster family… let's say leaving when I was eighteen was almost too late."

Logan's whole posture had grown more tense by the minute and Charles realized how difficult this topic was.

"I met some guy who taught me a little about what I could do. He said I'm dependent on the sun. Staying underground or indoors for a long time depletes my powers."

That made sense. It also covered what Charles had discovered about Alex's gift.

"Problem is… when Jean knocked me around, she hit me pretty hard on the head." Scott touched the big bruise on his temple that extended down his cheek. "After that… I can't control it anymore."

Charles stared at him.

"It's why I have to wear the glasses. They keep the energy in check. Otherwise I'd annihilate whatever I'm looking at." Scott looked at him, face drawn. "It's why Logan came to you. For your help."

"I'm not a doctor, Scott…"

"I'm not expecting you to magically heal me, professor. But you can look into my mind. You might be able to fix at least some of that. Or tell me if it's forever. And if it is… Logan said you might have the means to help me."

Maybe. Maybe he had. But maybe all those high hopes… Charles stopped.

"Would you be willing to come to Westchester?" he asked.

Scott nodded slowly.

Feeling Logan's argumentative state, the Shifter looked at him, expression firm. "I'm not going to venture into another person's mind in the basement of a house in a place I know nothing about. I know we will be safe in the mansion. I know back-up is there. I know Hank can tackle this problem. It's either that or nothing at all."

Logan chuckled. "You drive a hard bargain, Chuck."

He glared more at the nickname.

"I'm coming with you," Scott said, shooting Logan a hard look. "I can make the trip."

"Sure you can, Slim." Logan drifted toward the door. "I'll let our host know we're leaving."

And then he was gone.

Charles was alone with an almost-stranger. He respected Scott's privacy and wasn't delving into the other mind, though he was very, very tempted.

"Will you be able to make this trip?" he asked, voice calm.

"I have to."

Charles inclined his head a little.

"You don't understand why I helped, right?" Scott asked.

A sharp mind, Charles mused. "Yes," he answered.

"You're Cursed, like me. I know you're more than just a telepath, too. You're Omega and you've bonded."

_Logan_, Charles thought with a suppressed sigh.

"Things like that spread. About safe places, about those who accept the Cursed, about you who wants to learn about this and teach others how to control what they are." Scott shifted, trying to get more comfortable. "I know about Haven. Not my favorite place to be. Well, right now it would have to be if I wanted to live without the glasses." He gestured at the specialized shades. "But I agree with you that suppressing what we are doesn't make us any different. We're… mutants. I've lived with the Curse since puberty and it's part of me. I can accept myself. It's the rest of the world that has this problem, not me."

Charles smiled. "A very commendable mind-set, Scott."

"This isn't something that can be healed. I know it, many know it. Sinister and his friends believe that it makes us superior. I highly doubt it. Mutations are changes. Like hair and skin color."

A bright, sharp mind. Charles hoped that he could help Scott, that the other man would stay after he had healed his physical injuries.

"You look past that. There aren't many like you, professor. I want to help if there is any way I can. I tried to help Logan, but look how that worked."

"You did fine, Slim," the man in question growled. He had slipped in almost unnoticed. "We're ready when you are," he added.

Charles stepped back, aware that he wasn't needed or wanted, and he watched with pained eyes as Scott moved slowly and like an old man with Logan's assistance. Going up to the car was almost too much for the injured man and Charles winced with him when he finally lay back heavily against the back seats of the truck.

"Lie down," Logan ordered roughly.

Scott did. Without even the smallest argument. Logan pushed two pills into his hand and a bottle of water into the other. Scott swallowed the medication without protest. Then his eyes behind the glasses slid shut, his breathing still reflecting his pain.

They were on the road no ten minutes later and Charles stared out the window, his mind going a mile a minute with what he had learned today.

It was a lot to digest. It was a lot to understand. It was a lot on his shoulders.

x x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x xx x x x x x x

They had driven almost non-stop, with only a brief coffee stop once. Logan was adamant that they keep moving. Even Scott, who was in pain and couldn't hide it any more, argued that a hotel or motel would only draw attention to them. So Charles had let Logan drive, nodding off in intervals, always keeping half a mind's eye on Scott.

It was around midnight, the streets deserted where they drove, dark and cold, that Logan suddenly tensed. Charles had been dozing, but he was immediately alert.

"What?" he asked quietly.

"Someone's following us," Logan replied just as quietly.

On the back seat, Scott stirred, apparently unable to sleep as well.

"Are you sure?" Charles asked.

"Yeah. This is a backroad. No one uses it if they can avoid it. No one living here either."

Charles trusted in Logan knowing this stretch of land and he probably did down to the last pebble. He looked into the side mirror, but there was nothing.

"Headlights went off a while back. Thought they could fool me." A feral smile crossed the other man's features. "I can still see their sorry asses."

The telepath was aware of that. With his heightened senses, Logan was better than any alarm system.

"Who do you think they are?"

"Sinister's men, most likely," Scott murmured. "He's not happy about the last confrontation."

Logan chuckled in the darkness of the cab. "You can say that again."

Charles' lips became a thin line. "What's your plan?" he asked, though he suspected something.

"Let them think we're prey, then hit them hard and fast."

Logan had just finished when bright lights flared up ahead of them and Logan cursed loudly, stepping on the breaks and throwing the car around in one move. Scott gave a wheeze of pain and Charles was flung into the safety belt, barely hanging on and managing to breathe.

"Shit!" Logan gnashed and pushed the accelerator down, only to break again when their pursuer cut off their escape.

Charles touched two fingers to his right temple, scanning, and found five minds. Four of them violent, one primal. He sucked in a sharp breath, so much reminded of Logan and Erik in one, but with a lot less control, a lot more love for violence, and a blood lust that boiled inside him that was threatening to drown the telepath.

"Five," he managed. "Five men. One's… dear god, he's like carnage incarnate."

Logan bared his teeth. "Sabretooth."

"Who?"

"Don't worry about him. You think you can take care of the rest?"

"Yes," Scott hissed.

Charles had never tried to take out anyone like this before, invade and switch off the brain for the body to collapse, and it wasn't easy when his own mind was dazzled by the darkness in them.

Something hit the car and Charles flinched. The car actually moved!

"Let's party then!" Logan snarled and threw open the door, jumping out into the semi-darkness outside the bright beams of light from the two cars.

Charles heard a howl, then a yell, and then loud bangs as guns were fired.

Behind him, the window shattered as something tried to get through.

He removed his seatbelt and twisted around.

Scott ducked, then tore off the glasses and blood red beams of energy shot out of his eyes, incinerating not only part of the door and roof, but also drawing a cut-off scream from whoever had been there.

Charles felt himself shake. He had never, ever fought anyone before. Memories of Muir Island returned, of the attack, the pain, the fear, the panic.

The car shook as something… someone jumped onto the hood.

A vicious mask of a face leered at him from behind the windscreen.

Cursed, Charles realized. Witchbreed.

And strong.

The windscreen shattered, showering him with glass, but Scott's blast had the mutant evade and disappear into the darkness.

"Professor!" the younger man called. "Can you stop them?"

He breathed in shakily, feeling completely out of his depth. He had never… well, until Muir Island. Back then he had used his ability and it had left him scarred. And scared.  
>Charles touched two fingers to his right temple and sought for the minds of the attackers, finding the carnal one, a chaotic mix of vicious beast and cold human logic. He knew it would take a hard blow to make this one fall, and Logan was handling him, so he looked for the others.<p>

One. He had one. Near-by. Lusting for blood, too. Looking forward to the kill. The one who had been on the hood. He homed in on the bright light of the mind, then struck out hard.


	3. Chapter 3

And the man froze, paralyzed by the strong mind now taking control, and then fell like a stone, dropping to the dusty ground, unmoving.

Charles drew a shaky breath, slightly rattled, but he went on. Looking, trying to find the others. He had to trust in Scott to keep him safe. He had no other defenses but his mind, unless he Shifted. But as a rat he would be even easier to take out. Of course, running into the woods might help, but these men were professionals and they had gifts.

The second mind was hardly any more contained than the first and he moved in, stopping the man from firing on Logan, who was grappling with a Cursed who was very much his equal. Taking over, Charles looked through the man's eyes, seeing the world through nightvision goggles that showed the truck he and Scott were in quite clearly. It also showed him two more men.

One was dodging Scott's blasts with supernatural acuity and speed, which told Charles that he had a gift as well, the other was…

… grabbing the zoned-out telepath and throwing him out of the car.

Scott yelled his name and Charles felt the world turn into a mad house as his body sent pain signals while his mind was still logged onto the stranger's. He removed himself with a violent tear, the 'host' collapsing with a scream, then he was back in his own mind and staring into a pair of dark eyes that shone with triumph. A knife was in the man's hand as he was kneeling on the Shifter.

"That was easy," he commented.

And Charles Shifted.

Unable to focus to strike out telepathically he did the only thing he could think of, and that was to become a smaller target.

From the curse that followed he realized that the attacker hadn't counted on that. Or hadn't known.

Darting under the car, the rat tried to get his bearings. Aside from the one called Sabretooth, only the Cursed who had grabbed him was left. And Scott was… he felt around… in pain and close to losing consciousness. With his prey gone, the enemy now turned on his real target: Scott Summers. Before Charles could really think about what he was doing, instinct took over and he homed in on the man, then launched himself at the parts he could get to and – bit down hard.

It got him a scream and a blow to the side for his troubles. He was flung away and bounced over the road, but rats were resilient and Charles was on his paws and running. Mind latched on the other man's, he caught the notion just a split second before the knife nearly clipped one ear.

Yes, the man had great coordination and apparently the gift had to do with anticipating a target's movements and acting accordingly. But Charles was a telepath and he had a tiny, tiny advantage over someone like that. Very tiny, but enough not to get killed.

Sliding behind a fallen tree he reached out for that mutant and grabbed hold of the consciousness. The man stilled, eyes wide, mouth open in wide surprise, then Charles twisted just a bit and unconsciousness claimed the man.

Breathing hard, feeling his legs shake, fur bristling, the rat waited a whole five seconds until he peeked around his tree.

Four down. No movement from them or inside their minds.

Scott was barely there any more, fighting to stay conscious but failing.

Logan… Charles heard him, heard the sound of the fight, but the mind was still inaccessible. He could feel the other, who relished in the blood he drew, in the carnage that had happened around him even if his own people had fallen, and he nearly threw up at the eager anticipation of a kill. This was a kill-or-be-killed berserker fight.

Running back to the mutilated car that surely wouldn't drive any more, Charles jumped into the back and checked on Scott, who had his eyes screwed shut, his glasses missing.

The young mutant flinched when Charles landed next to him and the Shifter reached out with his mind.

::Scott, it's me. Charles Xavier::

"W-what?" he breathed.

::What happened to the glasses?::

"Knocked off," was the faint reply.

Charles winced when a loud howl came from outside, but he went looking for the specialized glasses. He found them underneath the driver's seat, looking okay. Dragging them out, he got them back to Scott. Shaky fingers brushed over his fur, surprise, shock, confusion, warring inside the injured man's mind.

::I Shifted. Stay calm. I'll help Logan. The others are no longer a danger:: Charles sent.

"Professor…"

::Stay!:: he ordered, putting a little more force than necessary behind the word.

Not that Scott was in any shape to move. He was at the end of his physical rope.

Looking for a safe place, Charles chose the tree again, then closed his eyes and homed in on Sabretooth's mind. It was hard to even locate, almost as impossible as Logan. He received a lot from the feral Cursed, but he couldn't enter like he had taken over the other's. Slowing his breathing, letting himself zone out again, Charles forgot everything around him, where he was, what shape he was in, the danger still everywhere, and he looked at the other man, trying to gain entry. Even if he couldn't shut him down, he might just slow him enough for Logan to finish this.

Gathering what psychic energy he still had left, Charles struck at the mind, creating a mental bolt that would have killed anyone else. And again. And again. It was like running into a wall headfirst, but he knew that if they wanted to get out of this, this man had to stop. The longer Logan was caught up in the battle, the more time was for back-up to arrive.

With a last blow he rammed into the feral mind, whimpering when his own mind threatened to tear apart. He barely heard the scream of anger and pain, didn't really understand the howl of triumph, then there was nothing but blissful silence.

Nothing moved.

Sound was muffled, muted.

Charles only felt his own headache, listened to his heart race.

There was something at the edge of his perception, a soft noise. Movement. Steps.

The rat trembled as he got to his feet, fighting the migraine, looking for the one coming closer, only to discover he couldn't tell.

Before he could move, someone grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and he managed a squeal, then he hung limply in Logan's grasp, looking into the battered, dirty face of the alpha, who studied him with a hard to interpret look.

"You sure know how to cut the fun time short," he rumbled, but there was no malice or heat in his voice. Actually, he sounded rather impressed.

Charles glared at the man to let him down. Logan smiled and pointedly carried him to the road, then plopped him down on the rather dented and twisted top of the hood.

"Car's trashed. We need to borrow one of theirs. You think you can Shift and help?"

If his head wasn't hurting so abominably, Charles would have done more than Shift and dress, throwing the older mutant a vicious look, but from his own state of mind he knew that he wouldn't be up for anything at all soon. With Erik he could have anchored, buffered the strain, but his partner was miles away and shielded.

Logan had already decided which car to take – a black, bulky looking SUV - and had incapacitated the other. Scott lay in the back, out like a light, and Charles wished he could join him.

"Where's Sabretooth?" he asked, each word painful.

"Run off like the coward he truly is."

The man had felt far from cowardly to Charles. He was a feral, primal being that had no conscience and no restraints.

From the way Logan looked, clothes bloody and torn, he knew that very well. His wounds had healed, the regenerative factor of his Curse working fast, and only the bruises would have to fade.

Charles wanted to ask questions, but he was too tired, too sore, to concentrate on even wording one. He simply leaned his aching head against the cool side window and let Logan do the driving.

x x x x x

They arrived at the mansion in the wee hours of the morning. Charles felt exhausted, his mind still sore and way too vulnerable, but that was nothing compared to the pain Scott was in. The other mutant was barely able to move and every time Logan took another step with him, he barely suppressed a moan.

Raven had been up and seen them arrive in the unfamiliar car. Her wide, yellow eyes were on the injured man.

"Do you want me to call Hank?"

"For now Scott needs rest," Charles decided, aware how bristly Logan was, how much Scott wanted to lie down and not see or hear anything.

Raven was very much aware of the volatile situation, eyes darting between the two men, and she just stepped aside. Logan helped Scott to the guest room and closed the door after them.

Charles swayed a little, desperately wishing for Erik, but his partner wasn't around and he was too proud to beg. So he would fall back upon the alternative method of containing the migraine: medication.

"What happened?" Raven asked, worry written plainly over her features.

The telepath sighed and rubbed his temples. "A lot, Raven. A lot."

She grabbed his arms and Charles was surprised to discover he had started to list a little.

"Charles!"

"I just need some painkillers. I overstressed myself."

She stared at him, quite aware what that meant, and Charles knew he looked rumpled and messed-up.

"C'mon," she said and tugged him toward the kitchen.

He followed willingly and didn't even wonder where Raven got the meds from. Charles simply sat on the kitchen chair, wishing his brain would stop aching so badly.

Raven handed him a large ceramic mug of black coffee. At his expression she simply said, "Drink it."

Charles was more of a tea person. Erik inhaled coffee by the gallon. But he didn't argue and sipped at the black, bitter brew.

Raven waited. Her eyes never left her brother.

"You should lie down," she said. "And call Erik."

"I'm not dependent on him, Raven," he said sharply, then buried his head in his hands with a groan. "Sorry," he managed, fighting a wave of nausea.

"Charles," she said softly. "Get some rest. Call Erik. You're partners."

Another sigh.

Raven touched him, slid her fingers lightly over the tense shoulders and when Charles raised his head, she framed the narrow, pale face and met the tired blue eyes.

"Sleep, Charles," she said softly, then placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. "Whatever happened, tell me later. And call Erik. He'll flip if he finds out you're doing that masochistic stint again."

Charles smiled dimly. He caught her hands and squeezed them. He knew Raven was right and he finally made it to bed, but he didn't call for Erik. He could do this.

x x x x x x

An hour later he knew he couldn't. His head was still killing him, something the painkillers couldn't alleviate. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

He dozed off, but something jostled him and he jerked awake, for a moment disoriented, his head hammering. The pain was bad and still he felt a surge of fear when something moved beside him, until the soft, familiar touch soothed the migraine.

::Idiot:: Erik murmured. ::Should have called::

Charles just curled into the embrace, sighing with relief.

::I heard you anyway:: the Shark went, stroking over the back of his neck. ::You're my mate::

::Sorry::

::And we'll talk about everything else later::

Charles hummed a little, then fell asleep, his mind safely wrapped up inside Erik's shields.

x x x x x

In another room Logan sat in a chair next to the bed Scott lay on. The younger man was sleeping, his ribs newly wrapped, his other wounds checked and tended to. Logan had refused help, though Raven had come twice to offer it. The third time she had simply given him more medical supplies, bottles of water and food from the kitchen. He was thankful for the care and the worry, though he didn't voice it. All his attention was on Scott Summers.


	4. Chapter 4

Charles woke around three in the afternoon, aghast at how long he had slept. Erik was still there, reading a book, smiling softly at him. His shields were fully around Charles, the anchor working one hundred percent, and when Charles sat up, he felt no lingering ill effects.

"You are an idiot, Charles Francis Xavier."

He had expected that, though Erik was a lot more controlled than he would have thought. Then again, nothing had happened to the telepath, other than a headache.

"Logan already told me what happened," the Shark said, emotions flaring briefly. "I know."

"How is Scott?"

"Still sleeping. Raven is taking care of those two."

Charles nodded and let Erik pull him close, savoring the contact. "I'm sorry," he sighed.

"You should be. I'm your partner. You're mine. Asking for my help isn't a weakness. You needed me."

Charles let himself drift in the incredible mind of the man he loved so much. Erik, while no less lethal and sharp and dangerous and destructive than Logan or even Sabretooth, was a known factor. He was part of him, he was his anchor, his balance, part of his mind. He had never feared the man and had never shied away from the darkness in him.

"Logan said you proved yourself to be quite a fighter."

And the Shark sounded proud. Charles understood where it came from and he knew he should be proud of himself, too. He had done something he had never tried before, even though it still felt wrong to use his gift like that.

::It isn't:: Erik insisted. ::You defended yourself. They would have killed you::

::I know::

Erik placed a kiss onto his hair. He didn't say anything, but Charles felt everything. He smiled.

They lay together for a long time, but finally nature called and Charles also wanted a shower. When he reappeared, Erik was gone, but he knew where to find him. The kitchen.

Food sounded very good right now.

x x x x x

Charles had to take it easy for the rest of the afternoon. He felt slightly spaced out now and then and every time Erik touched him, caressed him, let the anchor open wide and caught the other Shifter. It was embarrassing how much this had set the telepath back.

"The brain is a muscle," he told Erik over a light sandwich dinner. "Apparently I haven't trained very well."

Erik played with a chip. "You're sore," he stated.

"Yes. Throwing the last mental blast at Sabretooth went way beyond what I'm used to."

"You're not a warrior."

"Clearly not."

Erik reached for the hand closest to him and squeezed it.

"You're more, Charles. So much more. You're the most dangerous man I've ever met. Your mind can kill."

"It's not me."

"No, but you're not defenseless. You're not weak. You're not a victim or prey."

Charles looked into the gray eyes, felt the warmth, the relief from the Shark that Charles was alright, and the suppressed anger at the ones who had attacked the three men. But the Shifter also realized that Erik wasn't about to hunt for Sabretooth.

::I know when something is beyond what I can do alone:: Erik said, smiling slightly. ::I gave you a promise. I will keep it."

The promise not to get himself killed. Charles felt relief touch him.

::I love you:: Erik thought, mind-voice intense. ::I won't jeopardize that::

Charles wrapped his mind around the Sharks, hugged him tightly, echoing the emotions. What they had couldn't ever be reversed. It was forever. The loss of one would probably handicap and eventually kill the other.

Erik's expression was serious; accepting. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Neither would Charles.

x x x x x

Hank was allowed to check on Scott the next morning, though Logan didn't move out of the room. He was there the whole time and wasn't happy when McCoy announced he wanted to run scans, have a closer look at the head injury. Charles simply gave Logan a calm, questioning look.

"You wanted my help, Logan."

It got him a glare, but the other Cursed let them do whatever they needed. Especially after Scott argued that this was about him, Logan wasn't his mother, and he wanted Hank to run the scans.

Logan planted himself in Hank's lab, a dark, ominous, almost threatening presence, which the scientist started to ignore after five minutes. Charles simply waited with them.

x x x x x

The blow to the head had really upset Scott's ability to control his Curse. The glasses were the only control device he had and Hank had fiddled with them until he had come up with a way to block the energy rays and still enable Scott to see. To use the gift he had, the energy rays, Scott had to switch to a blocky looking variation of the glasses that regulated just how much energy he could disperse.

Logan wasn't happy, but he had to accept that right now the other mutant was handicapped.

"He means something to him," Charles told Erik throughout a game of chess. "More than a friend."

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Could have told you that the moment he growled at me when I talked to the guy."

"And what I picked up from Scott, it's mutual."

The Shark chuckled. "Good for him."

Erik was a lot more relaxed, Charles noticed. Knowing that Logan had a partner apparently appeased the primal side in him.

The other Shifter glared as he picked up on those thoughts. "I'm not primitive."

"I didn't say so. I said primal. Instinctive. And you know I don't mind."

Especially in bed. Charles never minded there. Nor did Erik.

Pushing the game aside, Charles leaned over the seated man, standing between his legs, and kissed him. Erik pushed his hands underneath the knit sweater and up the lean side, kissing back, feeling his mind ease a little. Logan's presence wasn't as harrying to his instinctual side as he had believed, which was due to Scott's apparent meaning in the other mutant's life, and having Charles so close helped. He finally tugged the shirt Charles had insisted on wearing underneath the sweater out of the pants and scraped blunt nails over the warm skin.

The telepath shivered and gazed into the gray eyes, far from cold and distant, seeing only heat.

"How is he?" Erik asked.

"Scott? Depends. The concussion did a number on his brain and he's currently unable to control his powers as he should be able to."

"Is he dangerous?"

Charles regarded him steadily. "As dangerous as anyone of us is."

Erik snorted. "Freaking Cursed like the rest of us."

"In a way."

The Shark drew mindless patterns over his partner's skin. Charles was running his fingers through the dark hair.

"I can't help him telepathically. He came here in hopes of me being able to do something to speed along the healing, but I'm not a healer. All I can do is look for damage and I can't find anything that I can influence."

"But you found something," Erik said, mind as sharp and quick on the uptake as usual.

Charles stilled, then closed his eyes for a second. He let Erik's soothing caress calm him.

"Scott told me about the accident that killed his parents. He was injured as a child. I suspect there was a blow to the head back then, too. A bad blow, maybe even a brain injury no one discovered. He has scars I can feel. It's like a barrier when touching his mind. Now he was injured again, again to the head, and maybe the attacker hit him harder than he thought."

"So this disability could be permanent?"

"It is likely."

Erik was silent. Then, "You tell them?" Scott and Logan, he meant.

"I prepared him for the worst case."

Which hadn't sat well with either Charles or Scott and Logan.

Erik leaned up and caught his partner's lips in a soft kiss. "How are you handling all of this?"

"I'm not the one injured, Erik."

::I'm not talking about Summers::

No, he was talking and thinking about the news that apparently Charles had attracted a kind of following he hadn't been aware of.

::Did you know?" the telepath asked.

::Not like this. I knew word had spread beyond this little hamlet. It's why Westchester had such a revival. I didn't know you had Cursed fighting for you::

Charles stood abruptly, brows lowering over his eyes and his hands clenched into fists. "I'm not asking anyone to endanger their lives for something I didn't start!"

"You started it, Charles. You welcomed the Cursed and they will protect their safe refuge."

"But…"

"What happened on Muir Island spread," Erik interrupted him. "Moira might not be you, but she is respected, it seems."

Not that Erik had that much respect. He despised scientists who wanted to understand the Curses, because his own memories were filled with violent, very dark images of such men and women. He had been at the mercy of these people and Charles knew it. Shaw had not been gentle with his creation.

"But…" Charles stopped, shaking his head. "I never asked… I never met any of them!"

"That's no the point. You gave them hope, maybe some of their family has moved to Westchester, maybe a child they know has come to the manor. There are many reasons and you can't get them to stop doing it."

The Shifter sighed. Erik pressed his lips against one temple.

"Don't think about it," he murmured.

"I can't not think about it."

"I could offer some distraction." The fingers slid over his lower back again.

Charles laughed a little, but he didn't resist the next kiss and he felt himself react strongly to the powerful waterbound Cursed. He knew it was only for the moment, but a moment was better than nothing at all, than brooding over something he hadn't been aware of until now.

Erik murmured his agreement and methodically stripped the telepath of his clothes. Charles only too gladly let him.

x x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x x

The meeting of Alex and Scott Summers happened at Xavier manor. Charles couldn't deny the tension he felt, but Scott had insisted that he wanted to get to know the younger man.

"If he is my younger brother…"

Charles had only nodded. If Alex was the man Scott hoped he was, it would be a family reunion after almost eighteen years. If he wasn't maybe Scott gained a friend today. Their similar abilities spoke for a genetic relationship, though they would be the first siblings who both shared a Curse. In all his research Charles had never come across something like it before.

Watching the two men he noticed Logan almost hidden in the shadow of the mansion. He walked over to him, standing next to the silent alpha.

"He's his brother," Logan remarked.

"It's impolite to eavesdrop."

That got him a smirk. "What can I say? Heightened senses. Curses are sometimes hard to handle."

Charles stuffed his hands into his pockets, noting the lines of tension easing in Scott, a tentative smile forming, then Alex suddenly hugged the slightly taller man. His eyes were screwed shut and he was shaking.

Logan rumbled. "Scott told me he had a brother. When their parents died, the kid was eight and Alex a baby. Of course the baby was adopted much quicker than his older brother and the foster parents didn't want both."

There was disdain in his voice and Charles couldn't fault him. "Did he ever try to find Alex?"

Logan shrugged. "Didn't elaborate. Would the foster agency have given him the names? Hardly." He bit down on his cold cigar stub.

Charles was silent, watching the two men. Alex was smiling, eyes swimming. Scott's eyes were hidden, half his expression gone because of the glasses, but he couldn't hide his emotions either.

"I believe we should give them some time alone," Charles remarked and turned away from the emotional reunion, heading back into the mansion.

Logan followed after one last look, disposing of the cigar stub.

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

Scott's disability stayed, but it didn't seem to faze him all that much. He was actually quite calm and collected, almost controlled to the point where he didn't move a muscle. He and Alex had caught up as much as they could in the few days both young men had spent together and if Logan was jealous of Alex, he didn't show. Charles didn't think so. Logan seemed to be a lot more relaxed now, actually close to happy, and if that was Scott's effect on him, all the better.

Hank had developed a very sophisticated device that looked like futuristic diver's goggles. It sat firmly wrapped around Scott's head and covering his eyes, enabling him to see normally through the wide stretch of tinted material, but also able to focus his energy bursts. He had to regulate the strength of each energy burst manually, touching small, flat knob on the side, but it didn't bother Scott.

Logan had looked at the device with annoyance and some kind of smoldering anger, but it wasn't Hank's fault. And Scott was completely accepting. McCoy had added an improved pair of almost-normal looking glasses that still covered Scott's eyes completely, but appeared more like regular sun shades. Like the more bulky device they wouldn't be easily knocked off Scott's face since they clasped together at the back of his head.

"You can stay here," Charles offered when they sat together at the Westchester harbor, watching the boats go out for a night of finishing.

The sun was setting, but it was summer and the light would stay for a good two more hours. It was warm; nice, actually. They didn't have many days like that and with the arrival of September, autumn would come in full force. It was a time where the leaves dropped suddenly, then the temperatures followed, and soon winter came blowing in with gale-force Nor'Easters that threatened to cut you to the bone.

Erik had spent the morning in the manor's gym, claiming it was a training fight, but Charles knew he had given Logan a chance to blow off steam. The other mutant wasn't taking Scott's apparently permanent disability well. Erik would have a few more bruises and Logan would hopefully calm down.

Strange how those two had come to such a quiet understanding all of a sudden, Charles mused with a soft smile.

"Thinking about it," Scott answered and drew him out of his thoughts. "Logan thinks I should."

"What do you think?"

It got him a laugh. "He's not deciding my life choices, professor. He's also got no say in what I do. I find it's nice to be here, among people who understand and accept what you are, even with this." He touched the glasses. "I know there's far worse in Curses than having to wear glasses. And maybe it'll get to a point where I can do without them one day."

Charles nodded.

"I talked to Wanda. She mentioned there are a lot of empty houses, some with work needed. I don't mind renovations. I already had several people talk to me, offering help." Scott looked almost wondrous at that.

The telepath smiled. "It's a community. You'd like it here."

"I already do."

Charles knew that Logan would stay, too. He had seen their shared past in Scott's mind. Logan hadn't said it outright and neither man had shown it in the way they interacted, but there was something between them. Erik had noticed it, too, had remarked on it, and it had earned him a hard glare from Logan.

The Shark had simply grinned and filed it all way for later teasing. Right now the whole situation was too fragile, but the moment Scott took root in Westchester and things evened out, Erik would be on Logan's case like a true shark on wounded prey.

Charles would lean back and wait for the storm to settle before he intervened.

"Then welcome to Westchester, Scott," he told the other mutant.

"Thank you." There was almost relief on the smooth, young features.

x x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x xx x x x x

Two weeks later Scott moved into a four bedroom house at the end of a cul-de-sac with an unobstructed view of the bay. It was the first house on Bayview Lane to get a new owner. The others were so ramshackle, whoever planned to move here would most likely have to rebuild everything. Its size made for a lot of renovating and improvements. The list grew with every day.

Charles dropped by now and then, pleased to see how much was accomplished in such a short time. Water was running, electricity worked, and Scott could live comfortably throughout the renovation, which would have to happen till the first fall of snow. Erik was usually there with him and they normally stayed for the night at Charles' little getaway in town.

Rolling over on his stomach, enjoying the view of his lover next to him, Erik smiled at the sleepy looking Shifter. He pushed himself a little closer using his elbows and kissed the soft lips. It was early morning they had exhausted themselves last night, but the pleasant ache Erik felt was nothing if not welcome.

Charles hummed and rose up to claim is lips more fully, deepening the good morning kiss. Erik nibbled at the red lips, then draped himself half across the pliant form, feeling something stir.

::Insatiable::

::Second nature:: was the smug reply.

Not that Charles wasn't showing interest. Actually, his adorable little rat could be quite a firecracker, like last night. Charles blushed as he caught that train of thought.

::Nothing to be embarrassed about:: Erik murmured and proceeded to kiss a pass down to the pulse point where his claim mark shone bright. He teethed it gently, feeling Charles' hips buck against his own.

::Erik!::

The Shark chuckled and looked up into the deep blue eyes. "Complaints, professor?"

Charles smiled crookedly. "No. But you remember that we're supposed to help at Scott's house today?"

"Hm, I do." Erik went back to kissing his lover. ::Plenty time::

Charles' arguments were drowned in the rush of affection, love and lust.

They made it out of bed, but they were late. Very late. The looks they received from Pietro, Scott and Logan, who were outside and discussing how best to handle reroofing the house before autumn were tell-tale. Logan especially grinned widely and knowingly.

"You reek," he rumbled in a low voice when Charles walked past.

The Shifter fought back his flush, then gave Erik a push when the Shark was about to bite back at the other mutant.

::You can play later::

It got him a heated glare, but Erik's mood was far from volatile or aggressive.

Of course Logan could smell Erik on him and vice versa. Even a shower couldn't wash that scent off. Erik was his partner, his mate, and Logan loved to taunt him with it at the most inopportune moments.

By the end of autumn the house looked pretty good on the inside. Spring would be the time to paint the outside. Alex had been there whenever there was nothing at the manor that demanded his presence and the two brothers had caught up on the missing years.

Logan's relationship with Scott was none too clearer even after so much time. Charles knew what it was, as did Erik. Everyone else was wondering, if they even noticed there was something deeper. Raven had, of course, She seemed to have a sixth sense for it. She had needled Charles long and hard until he had told her to ask Logan and leave him alone.

That she had really gone and done that had nearly given Hank a heart attack. Logan had simply smirked and told her to keep her nose out of his private life.

"That's as much as admitting they're at it like bunnies," she had declared over a late kitchen dinner, she, Hank, Charles and Erik sitting around the massive kitchen island and sharing assorted leftovers that could have fed even more people.

Hank had nearly choked. "What?"

"You think he regenerates as fast as…"

Charles had rolled his eyes while Erik had smiled behind a forkful of meatloaf.

Hank had been close to burying his face in his spaghetti.

x x x x x

Snow fell at the beginning of November and Westchester had become a quiet place. The boats had been moved to their winter quarters, unnecessary renovations had been pushed back until spring, and Logan had gone off again to wherever. Scott had remained in the small town, still wearing his glasses, and Hank had seen no change to his problem. The damage was apparently done.

"I'm sorry," Charles said.

They sat in the study, near the fire, a chess board between them. Scott studied the pieces, then moved his rook.

"It happened. I can't change it."

Stoic, self-controlled, so very grown-up. Charles felt the anguish radiating off the sharp mind, but he didn't comment on it.

"Winter is the time to stay inside and after a while the energy wears off." He smiled a little. "Logan keeps telling me that I have blue eyes. Can't say I can still see them."

"Scott…"

"It's okay, Charles."

Charles moved his piece. "It's not. You're entitled to feel emotional pain, but you can share it."

"It won't change anything."

The world outside was cold and inhospitable. Wind howled sharply around the manor. It made Charles glad they were inside.

"No, it won't he said, but it can ease the mind."

"I already talked. To Alex, to Logan, to Hank. Even to you, remember? I'm all talked out. I've lived with the Curse for a very long time; now it just changed from what I'm used to. At least I found my family again." Scott smiled warmly. "It's something I never expected to find."

And that, in itself, had been a much bigger change to the mutant's life. Eighteen years were a long time to catch up to.

"You're still worried about those who attacked us," Scott stated.

He sounded so much more mature than was his age. Growing up as he did, Charles supposed, did that to you.

::It does:: Erik could be heard. ::I did::

Charles hugged his mate close. He hadn't considered closing their link for the conversation with Scott and if Erik didn't want to listen in, he knew how to shield by now. At least the basics. As it was, the Shark was very much interested in what was going on; not just with Charles, but with the school and the town. Even if he kept denying having any interest in anything but Charles himself.

"I am," Charles said out loud. "They attacked one. They might come here."

Scott looked at him, face almost unreadable. He shook his head. "They won't. They aren't that brave. Basically, those who joined Sinister or the likes of him are cowards. They take strength from numbers, but show them you're powerful and they run with their tails between their legs. They thought I was vulnerable. Sabretooth is a match for Logan, even if he doesn't want to hear it, and they didn't think you could do much more than roll over and die."

Charles pinched the bridge of his noise, the memory of what he had had to do still haunting him sometimes. He wasn't a violent man and he hadn't liked what he had done. It had been necessary, but that wasn't an excuse.

::It's you or them:: Erik stated coolly. ::I prefer it to be you::

::Me, too:: he said without actually thinking much about it. It was what he felt; his logical mind wasn't happy about it, though.

"Charles," Scott drew him out of his thoughts. "Westchester is safe. It's as safe as Haven. They won't dare come here because it's defended."

He stared blankly at the other mutant.

"Everyone here would fight. Logan told me. They won't turn themselves over to Sinister. They won't leave without fighting, teeth and claws. It's their home. Mine now, too."

"I never asked them to…"

"No, but they respect you. All of us here know that you would do the same. You encouraged them to be who they really are."

Charles was too stunned to reply and he instinctively turned to Erik, who caressed over his mind.

::You knew?:: he asked, faintly.

::I suspected and then heard some of them talk. One or two even told me outright that if anyone threatened this town or you, they would rise to your defense::

Charles fought for composure. "This is… unexpected," he finally said.

Scott smiled. "Probably. Nothing you can do about it."

x x x x x

They finished their game a while later and Scott decided to wait for a change in the weather to go home, or stay the night if things got even worse.

Charles turned to his office work and actually made quite a dent into the stacks of papers. He only surfaced when hunger drove him into the kitchen where he found Erik throwing together a hamburger that looked mouthwatering.

"You growled loudly," the Shark remarked with a grin and presented the hamburger with a flourish.

Charles blinked. "Oh."

"Eat."

Erik sat down with him with his own food a minute later and Charles hungrily dug into dinner. With a large bag of chips shared between them he felt stuffed and pleasantly full not much later.

The Shark gave him a fond look and Charles laughed. "Was it really so obvious?"

"Yep."

"Sorry."

"Sharks are used to feeling hungry sometimes."

The other Shifter looked at his lover, long and hard, aware that this was also a clear reference to Erik's past. A past Charles was very much aware of. He knew everything of the other man; absolutely everything. Shaw had mistreated a young Erik in many ways, down to withholding nourishment, and while sharks could go without a daily meal, the human side couldn't. Torturing both, shark and human, had been Shaw's pastime. It had been his way of training, of bending the iron will the other Shifter had, of stating his own dominance.

Erik looked at him, the cool gray eyes distant for a moment, then warming. He smiled a little.

::It's not like that:: he stated.

::I'm glad::

The Shark rose and disposed of the plates, then gave the landbound a quizzical look. "Plans?"

With the weather abominably bad and no chance to swim, Erik had already had his pleasurable dive in the new tank. He felt mellow, relaxed, at ease. Charles reflected the feeling, especially now that his blood sugar levels had risen with the food, and he had no plans at all to go back to office work.

Erik grinned when he stated that.

"I was thinking of the library and a good book," Charles added.

He was pulled into a tender embrace and a kiss was placed on his nose. "Sounds lovely," Erik murmured.

He chuckled and brushed their lips together. Erik tasted of salt.

x x x x x

They did end up in the library, the private one of Charles Xavier, which wasn't that much smaller than the mansion's main one. The difference was that it was only for them, with an old, comfy sofa that easily held them both. Charles read through his science journals while Erik, surprisingly, browsed through the large amount of papers they had on the town of Haven.

Charles didn't comment. He simply enjoyed his lover's closeness. He also didn't protest when, after a while, Erik started using him as a pillow, papers abandoned. He absent-mindedly stroked through the longish strands of dark brown hair, playing with the shorter ones at the neck, and he registered a lot later that Erik had actually dropped off into a doze.

He woke his partner gently an hour later, drawing a sleepy grumble. Charles smiled, tousling the already messy hair some more.

"Bed," he suggested.

A glint in the soft eyes made him chuckle. Sometimes Erik had a one-track mind.

x x x x x

Outside the weather had yet to quiet down and from the forecast – Ororo had an amazing feeling for weather shifts – it wouldn't get better come morning. Charles didn't mind and neither did Erik. They slept through the howling winds of the night.

Tomorrow both would see what might come.

end!


End file.
